


I Don't Know Why I Remember

by wonderfulmax90



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderfulmax90/pseuds/wonderfulmax90
Summary: I scanned back over my life and thought of things that have stuck in my mind, but for no obvious reason. That meant no births or deaths or other important moments, please. I went for small ones. I rendered them precisely on the page using concrete details using concrete details beginning each one with the phrase, “I don’t know why I remember”. I tried to not explain why they stuck with you, or interpret the meaning of them. I just wanted to put my reader there.
Kudos: 1





	I Don't Know Why I Remember

I don’t know why I remember the layout of the house so precisely.

I don’t know why I remember the sunlight that beamed down onto the house.

I don’t know why I remember that the grass was often green and trimmed.

I don’t know why I remember that the hedges were tall enough for my grandfather to see over.

I don’t know why I remember that the driveway would be hot from hours in the sun but not hot enough for my grandmother and me. We were able to walk across it completely barefoot.

I don’t know why I remember that the red steps were covered in wet footprints from time to time. It depended on if my grandmother watered to water the multitudes of plants that lined the lawn.

I don’t know why I remember that they were nearly brown now from the years of wear.

I don’t know why I remember that the paint had chipped up in more than one place.

I don’t know why I remember that the kitchen connected to the stairs with red paint.

I don’t know why I remember that the small, round, and sun-bleached brown table sat in the kitchen with four matching chairs.

I don’t know why I remember that the silver fridge sat next to the garage door

I don’t know why I remember that a matching sink sat perpendicular to the fridge just underneath a window looking over the backside of the house.

I don’t know why I remember that in the summer, flowers crawled up the window towards the second floor.

I don’t know why I remember that the counter was the same sun-bleached brown as the table.

I don’t know why I remember that the floor was red brick vinyl.

I don’t know why I remember that the the garage was the one of the only places in the house I never went.

I don’t know why I remember that the door to the garage, though, was an ugly Christmas green.

I don’t know why I remember that to get anywhere else in the house, you had to pass through the dark servants quarters which was just attached to the kitchen and was only thin enough to fit two people if you were lucky.

I don’t know why I remember that my grandmother used that place to hold her canning. Jars of peaches and pickles lined the cabinet walls from top to bottom.

I don’t know why I remember that it was the darkest place in the house. The dark brown wood made sure of that.

I don’t know why I remember that through there, the dining room sat mostly unused. In all ten years I spent going in and out of that house, I can count on two hands the amount of times we ate at the table there.

I don’t know why I remember that the entryway where I threw up after a smacking my head into concrete was attached to the dining room by nothing more than some flooring.

I don’t know why I remember that the small, enclosed room where people could come in and take off their shoes and coats in the winter attached to the front door.

I don’t know why I remember that the rugs made by my grandmother lined the entryway. Just like the rug that lay underneath the dining room table.

I don’t know why I remember that to the left-if you were facing the front-was the living room which barely anyone used but me.

I don’t know why I remember that boxes lined most of the piano room attached to the living room. The piano barely visible most days.

I don’t know why I remember that the sun room was where most of the TV watching took place.

I don’t know why I remember that the sun beams would come through the windows and obstruct any kind of show I happened to be watching.

I don’t know why I remember that my grandfather’s office was crammed into a corner of the sun room.

I don’t know why I remember that you could find him there most days and I rarely ever saw him out of that spot.

I don’t know why I remember that even when my grandmother called dinner, he rarely came and sat down to sit with us.

I don’t know why I remember that the staircase that stood tall across from the entryway

I don’t know why I remember that on either side of the that was a door.

I don’t know why I remember that one led to the bathroom which was also accessible through the kitchen. And the other led to the laundry room. Or so my grandmother had told me. I had never seen the door open to confirm that theory. For all I knew, she was hiding bodies in there.

I don’t know why I remember that the stairs led up to the second floor before splitting off into two to lead up to the second and a half floor.

I don’t know why I remember that just a few steps up the stairs and you could see the hay strewn about the top of the stairs.

I don’t know why I remember that the hay had been brought back from the country house that made the handmade barn all the more real looking.

I don’t know why I remember that my dad and uncle’s rooms sat to the left and right of the top of the stairs respectively.

I don’t know why I remember that I rarely stayed in either of those rooms.

I don’t know why I remember the dolls that lined the walls were too creepy for me.

I don’t know why I remember that there was a bathroom connected to my father’s room.

I don’t know why I remember that it probably hadn’t been renovated since the 70s.

I don’t know why I remember that the water stains ran down the sink and bathtub.

I don’t know why I remember I hated it in there so much.

I don’t know why I remember that my grandparent’s room and bathroom were on the half level provided by the steps.

I don’t know why I remember that you could walk through their room and bathroom to the other side which held my grandmother’s sowing room.

I don’t know why I remember that from there, a set of steps led down to my uncle’s room which held more dolls than my father’s room.

I don’t know why I remember that there was a door right in front of the room which could be seen as a closet.

I don’t know why I remember that it led up to an attic which held another office for my grandfather and all his recording equipment.

I don’t know why I remember that it had a couch if the house got too full of people and someone needed to sleep up there.

I don’t know why I remember the layout of the house so precisely.

I don’t know why I remember that even renovated, I can see all of the times I entered and exited the house.

I don’t know why I remember every inch of that house.

I don’t know why I remember it.

I just don’t know why.


End file.
